


Red

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: Bendy's Murderous Adventure Across Moominvalley [23]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Bestiality, Games, Molestation, Necrophilia, On Hiatus, Other, Rape, Sleep Deprivation, mild drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: Once, you come across a curious nest, different from other Joxter nests. In part because it's occupied by a Joxter, a demon, and a Snufkin. In part because they like killing, like you do.You decide to stay for a while, but not forever, because you see what happens to those that stay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Red Joxter is a Joxter OC I've been sitting on for a while. I have many ideas for her, but haven't been able to write anything in a proper linear format (ie, from when she joins the nest to when she leaves it). I decided Red wouldn't like proper linear formats anyway, so if this turns into a multi-chapterate, the chapters probably won't be in order.

Bendy calls you Red. Perhaps on account of your hair, which is a bloody mahogany. You don’t mind the name, so Red you are.

The Snufkin is Happy. He’s off limits, not available for you to play with. This is a novel and infuriating concept to you: rules are meant to be broken, after all, especially for Joxters. And Snufkins are meant to be killed and fucked, preferably in that order. That’s how you like to do things. But Happy is off limits. You wouldn't have accepted it, but it was decided by Bendy, so you don’t argue with him. 

Happy’s presence teases you. You do best when there’s another Snufkin in the nest. 

Rat is your acquisition. The name is Bendy’s, though. Bendy has a weird affinity for naming things. The Joxter is just weird. His trills are flat. You think he hasn’t socialized with many Joxters. 

Rat is a Snufkin with big ears, big dopey eyes, and a naked pale tail you like to run your fingers over. He flinches a lot. He ran from the nest three times, because you like to play catch and release. It’s not hard to rig traps for Snufkins. Bendy got caught in one, because he thought you didn’t let Rat go on purpose and so he chased him. You had to explain that you are not so careless as to accidentally lose Snufkins. Even when you’re asleep. Your knots are very, very good. You caught rabbits with them before deer, and deer before Snufkins. Your knots hold all animals you need them to hold. You like all animals.

Bendy lets you catch the Snufkin the next two times, although you can tell he wants to give chase. Bendy is a predator. He sees the Snufkin running, and it’s hard to resist the instinct to pursue. You respect that. And understand. Don’t run fast around him. You’re not inclined to running, anyway. But don’t run fast around him. 

Rat falls asleep eventually, and you brush your long whiskers over him. You love it when they’re asleep. Or dead. 

“Don’t kill him, dear,” the Joxter pleads to you from the side. “Look how lovely he is. He can last a good long while if we’re careful.” 

You look at the Joxter, and frown. You contemplate killing Rat out of spite. You don’t dislike the Joxter. He’s just weird. And he knows he can’t tell you what to do. But you pull away anyway, and slip a hand under your heavy frock. While your lidded eyes keep watch on Rat, you cum hard imagining him dead. 

The Joxter rapes him later, while Happy laughs and Bendy holds him down. 

“I have a game,” you tell Bendy. Bendy likes games, so it’s a good way to get him on board. 

“What game?” He’s instantly curious. He liked your game of snare-trapping a Snufkin and hanging him by the throat. 

“It’s called No-Sleep,” you say.

“No-Sleep?”

“You don’t let Rat fall asleep. Not for a second. If he does, you wake him up.”

“That don’t sound very interesting.”

“I want to see what happens when Snufkins aren’t allowed to sleep for days.”

“Gee, you can just watch Happy if you wanna see that.”

“He still gets sleep. Naps randomly. I want to see what happens when one dies from exhaustion.”

Bendy’s eyes round, and you know you've got him. “They can do that?”

“I’ve heard they can.”

Later, Bendy springs around Happy excitedly and tells him about the No-Sleep game for Rat.

Rat’s grey eyes watch with dread. 

“Do you wanna play No-Sleep?” Bendy chides him, poking his cheek with one fat white finger. “Wanna play No-Sleep?”

Rat shakes his head frantically. “Please, please no, let me go-“

It’s tiring, sometimes. They always say similar things. 

“No-Sleep, No-Sleep,” Bendy chants and dances around Rat.

“You’ll need to keep him awake,” you tell Bendy. “Nobody else can stay awake as long as you.”

“Oh, I can watch him,” Bendy’s lips are pulled wide. “We’ll be real, real close.”

The first night, Bendy hauls Rat and Happy out of the clearing to let you and the Joxter sleep. You’re not sure exactly what Bendy does to Rat that night. Sometimes, you wake in the middle of the night and hear distant screams. They make something warm furl in your belly. You rut against the Joxter’s body and rub yourself into sleep. It's a nice night. 

The next morning finds Rat hunched around the fire while Bendy dances around him singing. Every time Rat’s heavy lids drift shut, Bendy strikes across his face with his tail. Rat jerks awake, again and again.

“I can take over for the morning,” you tell Bendy. “You did great.”

You settle in front of Rat. He’s shaking uncontrollably. 

“Tell me about yourself,” you say.

Rat doesn’t answer. 

You slap him.

Rat’s hair hangs heavy over his face. 

“Please,” you whisper. “I want to know who you are before you die.”

“You’re sick,” he mumbles, so softly you almost don’t catch it.

“I know.” Your fingers stroke his cheek. “Do you have a story to tell me about your life?”

He says nothing. 

You strike him again. 

“Did you know anybody?” You ask. “Did you love anybody?”

He hesitates, then nods once, shortly. 

“Were they pretty?”

“Not that kind of love.”

“A friend?”

“My brother.”

Your eyes round. Rare it is to find two Snufkins who know they are related. “Older?”

“Please let me sleep.”

Now that’s boring. Similar, repetative theme. You don’t have patience for that. 

You inform him, “You will tell me or I will cut out your tongue.”

How big his eyes flare. They usually know you aren’t bluffing, because you sit quietly and are straight-faced and calm. No need to get angry. “Younger,” he gasps. 

“Where is he?” You fancy the idea of keeping both. 

Rat’s face twists. “He was caught by Joxters.” Ah. He’s not lying, either. All those facial quirks that indicate mourning and emotional pain. 

“You couldn't save him,” you murmur. 

Fat tears well in his eyes. Snufkins are fascinating. There are these little twitches that run under their skin in various places when they are sad or traumatized. Details someone might miss. You never do. Their chins wobble. Their brows crumple. You touch his cheek, and taste his tears from your finger tips. 

“Please go away.”

“Did they rape him?”

“Stop it.” 

“Did they rape him?”

Rat just cries. You don’t like repeating yourself a third time. 

“Bendy?” 

“Mhh?” 

“Will you hold his mouth open?”

“Sure thing.”

You cut out his tongue while he screams. It’s hot and wet in your hand; you lick it and eye him while the Joxter crams gauze into his mouth. 

“I don’t know if that was necessary,” he says frantically, “truly, he had such a nice voice-“

Rat hyperventilates. Torture exhausts Snufkins, and predictably, this exhausts Rat. It’s very curious to you how Snufkins can sleep even in situations of high stress or pain. You’ve seen them sleeping in your traps before, their bodies bloodied and torn open and eaten by bugs. Joxters are known for napping a lot. But torture… torture can make even the hardiest Snufkin exhausted beyond measure. 

So Rat starts dozing off again somewhere towards the end of his crying bout. 

Bendy has been sticking close after the whole tearing-out-Rat’s-tongue deal. You’ve learned Bendy likes the scent of blood but can’t smell much else. You shouldn't bleed around Bendy, just like you shouldn't run. 

“Do you have a game to help him stay awake?” You ask. 

“Jox likes to drown ‘em.”

That sounds peaceful. It’s an afternoon affair. Even the Joxter finds the energy to join. He gets hard dunking Rat’s face in the water. It’ll ruin all the gauze, but you don’t mind. Every time Rat’s eyes slide shut, splash, his head is dunked under. The Joxter gets soaked in the process.

“There ought to be a way to automate that,” you remark.

“That wouldn’t be very personal,” the Joxter replies. He changes his mind half an hour later. “Perhaps it would be nice, just to keep the torture going during a nap of my own.”

When you return to the nest, Bendy dragging Rat over rocks and roots and dirt, you begin working on a way. You like technical problems like this. 

Bendy keeps Rat awake while you work. 

“It’s very simple,” you tell the Joxter later, and show him your drawings of the lake and the proposed contraption. “Rat stands on a stack of rocks underwater, just high enough for his nose to be above the water. We tie him by the neck to this tree overhanging the water. He stays above the water by balancing. If he falls asleep, he is dunked under. If he tries to swim to shore, he’s choked by the rope.”

“Truly brilliant,” the Joxter marvels.

“It isn’t, but it’ll work.”

“Fantastic idea.”

Rat doesn’t like the idea, although you hold his hands and tell him politely what’s going to happen. “It’s because none of us want to stay up tonight,” you tell him.

“I’d stay awake,” Bendy pipes up.

“Except Bendy.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t drown,” Bendy added. 

When you make it to the lake, you learn that nobody likes swimming. You don’t mind it, so you strip down and set up the rock formation. You measured carefully, so you know just the height.

Rat’s screaming and sobbing. He’s been awake for over twenty-four hours now. He keeps clawing at the ink like it’s going to do any good. The Joxter yanks his pants down and shoves in while the ink positions him nicely. Rat starts bleeding. All the new gauze has fallen out of his mouth and he looks weird, bleeding a bit from both ends, held taut by ink and being raped by a Joxter. There’s a special kind of madness in this nest. 

The Joxter uses Rat’s mouth next. 

By the end, Rat’s limp. His eyes are heavy and unfocused. He’s not very present. You loop the rope gently around his neck and kiss him. A deep, long kiss that leaves you craving more. But it’s time for him to go in the water. Bendy sets the other end of the rope and drops Rat in the water like carrying people is nothing to him. It probably isn’t. Bendy is more powerful than any creature you met before. 

Rat is amusingly silent. He doggy-paddles badly until his tippie-toes find the smooth stone. His flaring nostrils are held just above the water. 

The Joxter goes back to the nest for a nap. You settle on the bank, while Bendy drapes in the tree. Happy sits by the trunk. All three of you watch. Rat is comically bad at this. In mere seconds, his eyes slip shut. His head dips. Water floods his nostrils. He snorts, jerks, and slips off the rocks. Another moment flailing pathetically. Back on the rocks. Rinse and repeat. Again. Again. Again. 

It relaxes you. You rub yourself lazily. The sun is warm. Bendy’s tail swishes back and forth, back and forth like a pendulum.

When you wake up, Rat is on the bank, soaked. The rope is gone. Rat isn’t moving. Happy’s hitting him with a stick.

“Aren’t ya listenin’?” Bendy’s yelling. Bendy looks weird. Melty. “I said wake up, ya useless Rat!”

It’s nighttime. You slept for a long time. Rat must have been on the rocks for hours. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

Bendy crosses his arms and spits. “Stupid Snufkin went under the water for a while. I had t’drag him out.”

You spring over, at attention. A few timed thumps to his chest. You press your lips to his. His are so, so cold and lifeless. It’s arousing. But you have to focus. More thumps, then blowing into his lungs. 

Hacking, Rat turns over onto his stomach and spits up water. Then he lies in his own watery vomit, eyes sliding shut. 

“You’re not supposed to sleep,” Happy tells him sternly, and whacks him with the stick again. Rat doesn’t even flinch. 

“It’s only been a few days,” you say, disappointed. 

“Hey!” The stick cracks down on Rat’s side. “Bendy doesn’t want you to sleep!”

“I think you gotta hit him in the face,” Bendy suggests.

The stick breaks across Rat’s cheek, not without leaving a red line. 

Rat barely moves. 

“What if ya bit him instead?” Bendy asks Happy.

Happy giggles. He flops down next to Rat, and sinks his flat teeth hard into Rat’s arm. Rat whimpers, but that’s all. 

“Okay, I’ll bite him.” Bendy’s teeth reform to sharp points and he crunches through Rat’s ankle. 

Finally, a good response. 

Rat seizes, howls, while Happy laughs. 

Rat is in good hands with Bendy and Happy. You trust them to keep him awake the rest of the night. 

Come late morning, Rat isn’t looking good. His leg is swollen and greenish yellow. His eyes bear heavy bags. He’s playing tic-tac-toe with Bendy and Happy, who are on the same team. They’ve been playing for hours, based on the hundreds of tic-tac-toe carvings scattered around the clearing floor. Rat isn’t focusing. Bendy and Happy keep hitting him. 

“Hello, Rat,” you say, and sit next to him. He doesn’t seem to realize you’re there. You grab his chin and force his gaze. “Rat.”

“Mom,” he whimpers. He can say that pretty well without a tongue. 

“I’m not your mother.”

“Pweas hab me, mom, mom hab me-“

He doesn’t know who you are. 

“That’s Red, stupid,” Happy giggles. “R E D. Red.”

“Gotta be honest with ya, Red,” Bendy leans in. “He’s just gettin’ dumber ’n dumber over time. He don’t even know where he is half the time!”

“Strange.” 

“Mom,” he sobs, and then rambles several words you don’t understand. Sleep deprivation is interesting. His brain seems broken. Although it’s hard to separate the effects of torture from sleep deprivation. 

“Do you think he’d be safe to screw?” The Joxter calls. “I wouldn’t want him to bite me like a feral or any such nonsense…”

“There’s more to him than sex,” you answer, stroking Rat’s hair. He collapses against you like he was starving for any sort of comfort. He thinks you’re his mother still. He’s cold. You cradle him, and kiss his hair. “But I’ll hold him still if you want to rape him.”

By evening, Rat has lost all sense of reality. Sometimes he thinks he’s with his family. Sometimes he forgets his tongue is gone, and panics afresh to find it missing. Sometimes he hallucinates things in the shadows of the woods. Spirits. Demons. You’re not sure what. But he sees things nobody else sees. He sees things coming after him. He cries hysterically, and stumbles away from his imagination on a leg festering and infected. Maggots will probably enter the wound soon. If they haven’t had their little eggs laid in him already. They just might have. 

Rat starts to chew on his arm. He bites himself bloody. 

“Boy, he’s crazier’n you,” Bendy tells Happy. 

Happy isn’t happy. “I want him to die.”

“He will,” you assure Happy. “He can’t be long.”

“We could let him sleep,” the Joxter suggests. “Although I suppose there’s little to be done for his leg… Ah, well. What an entertaining experiment.”

At some point, Rat falls asleep and no amount of hitting or yelling wakes him up. You decide to strangle him. He seizes awake, coughing and seizing. 

The next day, maggots do show up. Writhing and white. Rat yells for someone who isn’t there. Then cries more. He falls asleep. The Joxter, taking to the sport of it, stabs him. Rat wakes up, and yells nonsense. Some name keeps coming to his lips, but it sounds funny without his tongue. Whoever it is, they aren’t coming.

Rat is dead by evening. He simply stops moving. Happy hits him. Bendy bites him. You check his pulse and it’s not there. 

“If he dies,” Bendy asks, “does he win or lose the game of No-Sleep?”

“It’s a game without winners or losers,” you reply. “Just to be fair. But we all learned something about what sleep deprivation does to Snufkins. That is important.”

You lay next to Rat, and pet his pretty hair. Your hand sneaks into your underwear.


	2. Chapter 2

Happy isn’t fair. He smells tantalizingly of Snufkin, buried under all the ink.You want to do things to him. But he is forbidden: a chafing concept. With consequences you'd rather not face.

“It isn’t so bad,” the Joxter tries to console you. He wants you to be happy here. “Yes, he’s very pretty, but isn’t that simply a bonus? You get to watch Bendy make love to him.”

You've seen that. It’s brutal, which isn’t something you say lightly. Happy gets skewered by something much larger than him while he wails and moans the demon’s name. It makes the hairs on your arms rise, and something electric stir in your belly. You want Bendy to fuck him through. Leave a corpse broken and blood-soaked. Something for you to dip your fingers into. A doll to prop up and play with.

The Joxter finds their fucking satisfying. To you, it’s inexorably teasing.

You ride the Joxter several times to seek relief, but living people aren’t quite the same as dead people. 

“What can I do?” The Joxter asks. He’s been worried.

You’re watching Happy. Bendy has lost all logical shape and undulates as a dark mass over Happy’s skin. He’s flowed into his mouth, up his cunt. It’s hypnotizing. How easily Bendy could churn him up from the inside.

“Please, dear.” The Joxter touches your thigh. “I can tell Happy’s presence wears on you…But I wouldn’t like such a thing to get in the way of our life here.”

“It won’t.” There are many reasons to stay in the nest. Many reasons, too, to leave. But you won’t be leaving yet. 

You decide to go for a walk. Nature is dark and soothing. Real in a way Bendy sometimes isn’t. All of your traps need checking, anyway.

Three traps along, and there’s a rabbit caught. The trap is not a nice snare. Not made for killing quick. You had put barbs on it. The rabbit didn’t catch nicely by its neck, either, instead catching its leg. Red stains its pretty white coat in weird clumps. It’s laying there uselessly. Reached that stage, where it’s fought for hours and now has no energy left. You’re familiar with the whole process of trapped prey dying. 

You kneel beside the rabbit, and stroke its fur. One large eye flares open and meets yours. The rabbit’s breath comes faster. 

“Joxter,” it pants, pink-padded paws churning in the dirt frantically. “Joxter, you must let me go - you must help me- look at this trap - oh, what cruel mumrik would do this- I’ve been here for hours- I can’t feel my leg-“

“Do you have a name, little bunny?”

The bunny’s ears slick back hard. “What does a name matter!? Get me out of here!”

Your fingers drift down its haunch. Soft. Pliable. 

“What are you doing!?” The bunny screeches, “Let me go!”

You prod between its legs. The fur here is especially soft, and the flesh under it has a pleasant give.

“S-stop that!” The bunny’s legs, its more powerful resource, kick and flail. To no avail, this time. 

“Have you had a litter?” You ask. 

“That’s none of your business-“ the bunny’s teeth gnash, her ears are pinned, her body helplessly struggling. “Get off me - you monster!”

Your finger probe in thoughtfully. Yes, she’s probably had a litter. At least one. Maybe more. She’s tight around one finger, but that’s only because she’s a little bunny and you’re a Joxter. It would be nice to catch her mate, next. Play with them both. Make them play with each other. But you’re not willing to keep a pet long enough for that. Either you catch him in the end or not.But this bunny won’t be around to see it.

“S-stop, please-“ Anger has made way to despair. As happens. The bunny trembles while you work your finger in and out. Your other hand pets her soft fluffy belly, to better feel those tremors. “What’s wrong with you? Just let me go- that’s all I ask-“

You begin to hum a little lullaby.

“You’re insane!” More struggling draws a heavier flow of blood from her snared leg. 

“Shhhhh…” you keep humming. Something sweet and slow. You do your best to push in another finger. It’s absolutely too tight. The bunny moans from the pain of it. Her little body shudders.

“Stop, I’ll do anything-“ 

“_Shh_.”

Whimpering, the bunny falls silent. Then there’s just your humming, and slick wet sounds. She quivers, long downy ears twitching, big round eyes flicking. She’s very pretty. Maybe she thinks if she’s quiet, you’ll let her go. That’s sweet. 

Pulling your fingers out, you instead close your palm around her nose and mouth. There’s a muffled cry. Hot breath trying to huff against your skin. Then she thrashes and you have to hold her skull tightly to keep her in place. 

Eventually, she goes still. Like a puppet with its strings cut.

For a long time after, while her body cools, and the blood dries, you stroke her fur and sing softly. You liked the rabbit. You hope you can catch her mate one day, and tell him stories.

“I have a rabbit,” you announce, entering the clearing and holding her soft limp body up.

Happy giggles. The demon isn’t around him, for once. That is when you first see Bendy twining with the Joxter in the canoe. You had smelled Bendy on the Joxter before, and you had suspected it, but now you know. They fuck. Not regularly, but they fuck. At some point, the same might be expected of you.

You like Bendy. You like the things he does to Snufkins, and you are curious about who and what he is. But above all things, you like yourself. It is not safe getting too close to Bendy. For many reasons. The Joxter coughs blood. Happy is… Happy. 

Not to mention you don’t want to bed anything more powerful than yourself. 

So, limits. You want limits.

After their fucking is done, and the rabbit is cooked and eaten, you decide it’s time to set limits.

You pick your favorite part of the nest. It’s close to some wind chimes made of knives, but not close enough that you’d be at risk in a particularly bad storm. Then you pitch a tent from one of the Snufkin packs. Then take a stick and draw a big circle around the tent. You sit just inside the circle and wait. 

It doesn’t take long. 

“What’s the line for?” Bendy asks. 

“You don’t know?”

Bendy crosses his arms. “Whaddaya mean?”

“The line game. Don’t you know it?”

“… Say I don’t. What’s it all about?”

“It’s a good thing you asked. Otherwise you may’ve lost.”

Bendy taps his foot. “Yeah?”

“It’s an easy game. Claiming territory. You draw a line around something that you declare as yours. Nobody else can cross the line without your permission.”

Bendy looks at your tent. “So… that’s yours now?”

“Mhm.”

“And if I cross the line without askin’, I lose?” 

“Mhm.” There’s a risk he’ll just be annoyed, and cross the line just to be a menace. You’re relieved when instead he takes to the sport of it. Bendy does have an affinity for following game rules, even when he knows he doesn’t have to. Especially when he knows he doesn’t have to. He finds entertainment in pretending. 

It takes him no time at all to draw a line in the dirt around Happy. “This is mine,” he tells the Joxter, pointing, while Happy sits in the middle of the circle. “Yer not allowed to enter the circle, an’ Happy can't leave, neither.”

“I-I can’t leave?” Happy whimpers.

“Nuh-uh. This is Bendy’s circle. An’ you’re my property.”

“What a nice way to keep him confined,” the Joxter commends. “Is this a new game?”

“It’s a Red game.”

Happy begins to sob. Snufkins crying are beautiful. “Bendy- Bendy please let me out of the circle… I miss you. I can’t live here without you.”

“Geez, Hap, I’m right here.”

Happy inches to the very edge of the line, but doesn’t dare cross. “I love you,” he breathes, “I love you Bendy, please let me out.”

Bendy laughs and skips a bit away, before grabbing a rock and chucking it hard at Happy. The Snufkin continues to sob, arms thrown over his head, while Bendy lobs sticks and rocks at him. 

The Joxter meanders over to you. “Red, dear, what is this nonsense about-“ 

He steps over your line. 

“Hey!” A black blur tackles the Joxter, and the two of them _whoomph_ to the ground outside your line. Bendy sits on his chest. “Nuh-uh, Jox! Ya can’t go in Red’s line! Them’s the rules.”

“But I’m not playing-“ the Joxter starts, bewildered, and Bendy smushes a finger on the Joxter’s lips.

“We’re _all_ playing,” Bendy whispers. He hops off, cackling. 

The Joxter stands and brushes himself off. He huffs. “Red, what is this about?”

“I’m sleeping here now.”

“Not that. This whole line business. You won’t be playing this for very long, will you?”

“I’ll be playing it as long as I’m here.”

“There’s no need to be like that - won’t you be joining me in the canoe?”

“Sometimes.” 

The Joxter looks at you like he can’t work you out. 

“Let’s catch a Snufkin soon,” you say, forcing your wandering gaze away from Happy.

His expression livens. “Oh, yes.”


End file.
